it was his wedding day, hundreds of guests at the reception held in a large hall full of tables and chairs and people, and i was a guest myself, all the other guests being my guests, in many ways confused by my preconceptions, which were as much corrected, for example when i thought he'd been reading the news but in fact he was reading a novel, as, on the other hand, they were proven right, when i realized he was reading a book by martha gellhorn (with notes in his hand about his ever so important meetings for the day after, including a lunch at her mother's place), and when i realized that the girl who was fixing what seemed to me like a thousand pieces of ruby red sequins to her dress because her own invitation card ruined it as it had blown up when she'd opened it - she explained as though everyone had meant to do her harm - was, in fact, the bride, fussy but not as pretentious as she would have been had she been real.

the feast started and ended without the bride, who was, for all that time, sitting near one of the walls, fixing her sequins with dry leaves, then people danced, finally, after years of not dancing and talked what they had had on their mind for ever. then imagine wooden floors and 7-10 of us playing catch, me being the only girl running around while all the other girls were behaving like they were supposed to, conversing, eating and dancing properly, flirting and running their hand ever so sensuously across their pink stockinged legs when they thought noone could see and talking dirty to men when they thought noone else could hear.

so what if i walked into the garden with all those people, and what if while we discussed work (bypassing the "what exactly are you doing these days?" part, such a great relief i even sigh and find his arm properly placed across my shoulders - look, there is an ever so green field around, surrounded by barbed wire, then there is the sea -, he says, his hand improperly sliding downwards by my side).

so let's go out to sea, play with some kids (we go scuba diving and even to some fun fair, her hair is dark chestnut and she has a most awesome smile and an electric blue dress, while the other, a boy, is wearing faded blue jeans, his chest bare and tanned), then come back for some more dancing that i watch from afar, stand in line for the dinner, as though at the cafeteria at work, and when I am given a tray and asked a question I answer "liberal", thinking of the way of life and my way of thinking, and he, with the book and neatly combed hair, standing in front of me says "democratic", and the bridegroom, who is standing in front of the democratic looks me right in the eyes and tells me that he has everything planned for us.

i soon learn that he has ordered a special meal for the circle of close friends and set up a special table, but we are still queuing at the counters and i see people eating redcurrant pavlova as the main course, and i am giving friendly answers to the democratic, perplexed that i am in no way patronizing, still, after some carefully devised answers we leave him as the bridegroom tells me that we have to plant some seeds at the break of dawn, but first he'd like to make love to me, and he tells me all sorts of other things but i cannot remember where he takes me and what else he tells me.

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by the time the sun has risen i see she has fixed all her sequins back to her special dress, she feels set for life, while, in fact she has missed much of it, as most of the guests have left and the seeds have been planted.


the book is the history of danish dreams by peter hoeg, the music is earthrise and summer tree by celtica

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and i wake at least five times, turning, and falling back into sleep to carry on with the dream and all its delicately intervowen threads that make perfect sense and hence make me feel as though everything in the world has fallen into place.
the next thing i know is i'm scribbling notes at the breakfast table to keep as much of the dream as i can, while outside there is some music, songs of angelic quality, but the music stops at eleven, exactly. it's time to get on with life itself.